


Snowglobe

by Carbonated_Blood



Series: A Very Marileth Modern AU [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mild Hurt/Comfort, No Sex, No sex? What the fuck, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:33:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22838638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carbonated_Blood/pseuds/Carbonated_Blood
Summary: Marianne and Byleth whether a snowstorm together.Modern AU.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/My Unit | Byleth
Series: A Very Marileth Modern AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1641859
Kudos: 16





	Snowglobe

Wind howls through and across telephone poles, sending electrical wires to waver and tremble in feeble resistance against Winter’s judgement. A snowstorm, one that piled high enough to cloister residents within their homes whether they liked it or not. The houses themselves were all rundown little things, many of which didn’t have driveways or even a garage. It was a blue-collar neighborhood in a white-collar town. 

One such home happens to be the Eisner residence. It’s not unlike the other homes, baring worn paint on the exterior, a sight that’s accented by tire treads in the lawn. Though, none of that was very visible as long as the snow continued to pommel away. The Eisner home, where Byleth had remained since his father’s death, was barred entrance and exit both within the tumultuous, frozen, storm. Inside, two souls dwelled. 

“I think that… I forgot to bring the garbage to the road…” Byleth’s voice croaks out with a dull, nasally, accent. Nestled beneath two layers of blankets, yet still shivering like a dead man, one thing was apparent; He was sick, sick as a dog. The second soul snared within the snowed-in home was Marianne. She’s bent at the knee by his bed, resting the back of her hand to his forehead. “Don’t worry, I-I’m pretty sure the trash would be… I mean, in this weather I don’t think it matters…” On her face is a reined in smile, a smile of care and pity both. Byleth, with eyes glossed and dead, stares into the ceiling as he musters up a response. “...Yeah.” 

Curious as to the current state of affairs outside, Marianne teeters around the bed’s perimeter en route to the single window in the room. Each of her steps is so light and briefly placed, plus with how awkward her little jog is, she seems as though she were a duck trying to act human. Watching her circle his bed with a stagnant gaze, Byleth simply drones out in his monotonous tone, “Why do you run like that…” She doesn’t answer, though it’s unclear to him whether or not she heard him. He suffered congestion after all, volume management was a trying task. Reaching the window, Marianne squints her eyes through the abrasive whisks of snow in an effort to make something out. “B… Byleth, I think Aloise is out in front of his house uh… I think he’s shoveling the snow.” Her last words are carried atop a steady chuckle, though such humor doesn’t infect Byleth. Simply closing his eyes and taking a lengthy inhale, Byleth speaks along an exasperated sigh. “What the fuck is he doing outside…” It’s hard to see, but Marianne can so faintly make out the man wearing no more than a tee shirt in the snowstorm. 

Byleth can feel his weight teetering as his bed weighs down some on his right side. Lying on his back like a corpse, the man’s eyes peel open to see Marianne sat on the edge of his bed. She was staring, and still smiling all the while. Neither of them speak, simply trading looks until Byleth pipes up. “What.” Her smile doesn’t falter, but her hips do wriggle so slightly as to situate herself comfortably. “Nothing… I just like watching you is all.” He speaks no more. Eyes shut once again, and Marianne finds herself spectating a breathing corpse. “Do you… want me to leave you alone--” “No. I never said that.” At that, her smile only bolsters. Now they were both silent. 

Left fidgeting on her phone, occasionally peeking up to stare at Byleth, Marianne found herself in rather drab attire; A red flannel that graced each inch of her arms, a black top beneath who never saw day’s light, and a pair of ridiculous mom jeans. As for Byleth’s attire… well he had the blankets pulled to his neck, all one could see was his head. It was a mystery if he was wearing anything at all. In front of Marianne, as she faced away from Byleth’s bed, was his dresser. Without a word, she slides off and teeters towards the drawers. Hearing the pull of wood, the soft rustle of cloth, and the squeak of his window’s curtains being closed, Byleth hastens his gaze towards Marianne. “What are you doing?” Still sifting through his wardrobe, Marianne’s head doesn’t even turn as she responds. “Finding something to wear, something cozy…” “Your flannel is cozy.” **That** comment cues her head to turn. “What? No it’s not…!” Finally sitting up in his bed, Byleth pushes the blankets down to his waist. “Let me wear it then.” Rising up revealed his attire to be a simple grey sweatshirt that once bore an officer’s academy insignia, though such a thing was faded plenty now. Clearly pleased at the idea, Marianne glows. “Okay, just let me… lettt meee find a shirt first…”

Having a new look decided, Marianne sat on the bed once more, only now she found herself right in front of Byleth. Sat with her legs crossed, she presented her chosen top to the man. “Why are you showing me--” his deadpan is broken by a sudden, droll of a chuckle “--Goddess. I forgot about that shirt.” It’s a velvet colored button up tee some several sizes too large for Marianne. It’s defining feature, however, is the print. Across the front of the shirt is a massive depiction of the four main characters from the nineties anime ‘Yu Yu Hakusho.’ Craning her head over to properly observe the gaudy design, she speaks. “It’s so tacky, I love it. But where’d you get it?” Simply shrugging, Byleth runs his thumb along the shirt’s sleeve. “It was my dad’s, but Goddess know where he got it--” “Your dad bought this?!” Now humored plenty, Marianne chortled at the idea, which only infected Byleth. “Y-yeah, he uh… I think he was having, like, a midlife crisis. Hah… hahah…” Now, they were both humored.

Wasting little time, the pair got to the actual trade. Marianne so very slowly peeled her flannel away, she wanted to watch Byleth disrobe after all. Indeed, her prying stare did not falter. Aptly wriggling his old sweatshirt off revealed his tried and tested physique. But revealed to Byleth was not his girlfriend’s shirtless form, instead she simply stared over him with a love-drunk grin. “Hey.” She looks to him, but then resumes her staring, not offering anything worthy of being called a ‘proper response.’ Overtaken with a sudden shiver, Byleth lurches in her direction, gripping her flannel’s sleeve. “C-come on I’m fucking cold.” Now she simply reacts with a quiet faux scream, laughing all the while. “Oh no, are you gonna make me undress…?” She’s got that look in her eyes, that stupid, confident, look. Not in any state of mind to match her wavelength, Byleth merely spouts a curt “no” before snatching the anime shirt from her lap. Marianne isn’t exactly sure how to react to such a thing, but in the moment, she makes a noise that could be described as a quiet “Wuagh!” 

Her stare never breaks, seeing if he was bluffing or not, but is quickly remembered that Byleth never bluffs. He began putting the shirt on. “Okay…! I’ll give you the flannel!” Before long at all, the flannel is shaken off and tossed to Byleth’s person. As quick as he had it on, Byleth had it off, returning the tacky button up to Marianne. Now both of them had what they wanted, finally. Upon slipping his arms down the sleeves, Byleth deftly fastened each button that stood in his way, swathing his body in a gentle comfort, and familiar scent. “...It smells like you…” The top she had on beneath the flannel was halfway removed when she heard him, forcing her into a brief fluster. “Oh, I hope that’s a good thing…” She then resumes disrobing. He simply nods, pulling the collar towards his nose and inhaling. “I love it…”

Marianne does away with the lesser top, then her bra, then slides the button up down onto herself. It inspires a bout of laughter merely from the size. “I-It’s so big!” she stutters out. Byleth’s smile remains dry, his eyes admiring just how baggy the ridiculous outfit was. Marianne pinches and tugs at the hem of the sleeves. “Goodness, it passes up my elbows--” Her speech trails off some. “...uh, yeah it’s… real big…” Immediately clued into something being off, Byleth’s eyes examine her own. They were pondering towards her arms. It’s then that they both see it, nearly ancient cutting scars painted the girl’s forearms. Silence. Whatever sweet flavor was in the air had been soured by a sudden wave of melancholy. 

Still staring, Marianne forces herself to chuckle, “...Sorry…” Byleth perpetuates his stare, but now wears a very apparent frown as well. She feels him moving, it’s in the way the bed shifts and covers rustles, but comments on it naught. “...I can cover them up…” She spoke like she was on trial, pleading for a second chance at something she felt she’d lost. But by the time her eyes can moisten up, there’s a very weighty pressure around her. Byleth’s arms, taut and muscled things, cradled at Marianne’s back. He held her close, any body temperature they had now being one anothers’ to share. “No it’s… I-It’s okay, it’s... no one else is here…” It wasn’t Byleth’s first time seeing Marianne’s scars by any means, but sometimes the way Marianne looked upon herself spurred something within Byleth. Something animal and protective. It’s not long before he feels that same pressure clutching at his back. Tepid limbs wrapped around his torso, frail little fingers wadding up fabric in their grip. There’s a wetness against his shoulder as Marianne burrows her face into him, sniffling some as she simply allows herself to be held. His hands continue to cradle, now rubbing at her back and allowing his nails to so gingerly rake away. “It’s okay Mari…” 

She settles in, but hardly settles down, giving out shaky breaths against Byleth’s collar as her head lays into him for any and all support. It’s sobbed out, cracked, and quietly grateful. “I love you Byleth…” It urges him to chuckle out a sob of his own, though no tears paint his cheeks. “Yeah… I love you too…” Soothed some, yet still eschewing out tears and sniffles, Marianne grins against him. “...You called me ‘Mari’?” Fingers palm and scratch her back. “Did I? I can’t remember…” His resistance fuels her smile. “...Liar…” They smiled together, they wept together. “Marianne you… your crying sounds so… weak… It’s heartbreaking…” Neither could tell what, but something about that made Marianne laugh. “Don’t say that, you’ll make me feel bad.” “Okay, okay… I’m just glad you’re smiling again…”

Time rolled away and what had once been a fierce white glow from outside had devolved into purple orange glimmers flickering between curtains. Despite earlier volatile emotions a fact remained; Byleth is still sick. He hadn’t moved an inch, nestled beneath his layers of blanket and shivering without any emotional turmoil to distract his symptoms. Marianne herself had been rather quiet, simply messing about on her phone as she awaited any request or demand from her partner. The egregious howl of wind outside remained, and even deafened Marianne just long enough for her to not hear her his request. “...ood…” She did pause, skewing her head back to look upon Byleth just in case. He repeats himself. “Food…” Perhaps it was the way he laid there, maybe how he’d sunken into the bed, but he looked to be no more than a dead man. Marianne speaks. “Oh Goddess… you look so…” He stares back, awaiting judgement. “so, so bad, Dear…” His voice retains it’s monotone even in defense. “Thank you Marianne.” Sliding from the bedside and onto her feet, she leans over her lover and smiles for him. “What did you want to eat?” Silence. He had to think about it for a moment. “There should be some… uh… barbeque chicken tender things in the freezer… That and uh, my head is starting to hurt pretty bad…” “Where’s the medicine?” More silence. Answers that’d immediately occur otherwise were lost and muddled within his ill mind. “...Laundry room.” Now standing straight, Marianne begins her way out of the room.

The chamber is cold enough whilst enduring the blizzard’s wrath, but Byleth’s condition however only drives him to shiver further. Even him swathed beneath layers and layers of blankets leads to no more than a wretched feeling cold sweat. Whatever familiar scent, or perhaps more better put as a lack of scent, were in his room is overpowered by his numb and cold nostrils merely smelling their own discomfort. However, with time, something writhes and fights through the scent of ice. Barbeque sauce. It had such a rich smell, one that was too good to be true. Indeed, they smelled better than they tasted, the barbeque tenders Marianne was cooking. With a relieved sigh, Byleth mumbles to himself. “Thank you Goddess…” He was convinced the hopeless girl wouldn’t figure out how the oven works. 

While the food allows itself to cook, Byleth can catch glimpse of Marianne waddling past the door. She was headed towards the laundry room, it must be medicine time. Sure enough, when she does re-enter she has in one hand a glass of water, in the other, a pill. Homing in on him, Marianne allows an expectant smile to sprout across her lips. “Okay, I’ve got something for your headache, so sit up.” He does as she says, pushing his torso to straighten out against the frame of the bed. The chilled glass is brought to his lips, though it only causes him to recoil and lurch his head back. “S-stop. I can drink it myself.” Still grinning, she nods, handing it off to him. “Oh, right, of course you can…” Now filling his cheeks with water, a means to not taste the impending pill, Byleth reaches out for the medicine. This time, it is Marianne who lurches back, keeping the medicine out of his wanting reach. With a mouth full of water, Byleth can say little. All he can manage is to leer at Marianne with his wide, staring, eyes. That quiet, annoyed, stare was all she needed. “Open your mouth, I want to feed you the pill…” Not even bothering to shake his head, Byleth’s brow merely furrows. “Please? You got to drink the water yourself!” That seemed like hardly an argument at all, a fact made apparent by Byleth’s elongated stare, but he yields. Bending his neck back some, the man’s mouth parts to serve as a pool of body temperature water. 

Now getting to have her chance, Marianne takes the pill and maneuvers it through the air some to tease Byleth further. “Nyeoom, here comes the ibuprofen plane!” As he watched her toy with his medicine like a child, Byleth looked as though he wanted to die. Eventually, after Marianne has her fun, the medicine is dropped into his maw, causing the smallest splash of water. It’s swallowed in the briefest of moments, then washed down with a chug of water that didn’t have to marinate in his mouth. Perhaps as if to reward his patience, Marianne leans in towards him with subtly pursed lips, only to have her face diverted by his fingers. “Don’t kiss me…” he croaks. “You’ll get sick…”

While the blizzard remained ever present it was never eternal. Each person knew that the storm would come to its end, perhaps then would be when Marianne’d head home. And end it does, though the route back to her abode is made nearly impossible. Snow stacks the streets, clouds windows, and has nearly frozen each windshield in a ten mile radius. This is all without mention of time. It was dark now, heading home in such turbulent conditions would be a cold, bitter, hell. And so, with all these circumstances piling upon one another… “Father? Hi-- I know, it’s really late… Sorry…” Marianne was in the living room on her phone while Byleth was napping in the other room. “I… I know I wouldn’t have-- okay, sorry…” Her face contorted well over. Whatever confidence she had around Byleth had fully left her. Confrontation, especially with people like her father, made her act more along the lines of what those would expect of her; Awkward, and impossible. “I can’t… I-I can’t drive this late… The weather’s been terrible all night though… Father please I… Um…” His voice bit through the phone in an unrelenting chain. She had little time to respond, let alone think. “Father, uh… I-I’m sleeping at Byleth’s tonight!” She hangs up.

It made her hands tremble, doing something like that. She was waiting for it, anticipating her father to immediately call back and tell her off for so rudely hanging up on the man that raised her. A cold voice drones behind her. “...What’s all the noise?” It sends her out of her skin. “Aah! Oh, Byleth…” He was draped and clothed with a blanket around his shoulders. His mouth nearly opened again to chide her, but that was before he saw her hands shaking. “...” She evades eye contact. “I’m sorry, I must have woken you up…” No response, not yet at least. He stares out the living room window, noticing that the howl of snowflakes had simmered to a halt. “...No, don’t worry about it.” 

The blanket dragged behind his heels as he made way around the couch to sit beside Marianne. Despite his best efforts the girl kept her eyes drawn away from his. “You seem a bit better, did the medicine work?” He ignores her. “Why are you shaking?” She doesn’t ignore him in return, no, she simply doesn’t wish to respond. They sit through another beat of silence, before it’s interrupted once again. “Can I see your phone?” Now she turns to face him, thinking about it for less than a second before indulging. Taking Marianne’s phone causes the man to chortle some. Her background is a picture of Byleth sitting atop the hood of his father’s El Camino. The way he’s so garishly posed, along with his unfaltered deadpan, naturally makes him laugh. Though, he didn’t take the phone to laugh at her background. He holds the lock button for some three seconds, slides a red power symbol, and the phone shuts off. Marianne’s face worries some. “Hey, t-turn it back on…” Like it were his bra, Byleth slides his robe of blankets open to drop the phone inside. “No.” Her face stays a mulled mess, grimacing some, but at least her hands stopped shaking. 

“No dad, no problem… Did you say you’d be sleeping over tonight?” Eyes remained disconnected. “Maybe… I should go home…” Something about how she says that makes his heart awaken in a quiet panic. “...Are you mad at me?” Returning to silence she merely shakes her head. “Then don’t go home, you said it yourself, the weather is too bad, and it’s dark.” “I don’t… want to annoy you…” This time it’s Byleth who stays quiet, simply staring into the back of her head. Suddenly her mouth spills blatherings out in a strange desperation. “Admit it, I… I-I annoy you don’t I? Why should I stay if I’m not wanted?” In her voice is a very palpable panic, it’s riddled in dismay and a severe lack of collection. She can hear a shuffling off to her side, one that nears in before long. It weighs against her back and drapes. Byleth’s arms coil and hold around her neck, his head upon her shoulder. 

“...Of course you annoy me… You act like a dog around me… A real small one that runs circles around my ankles and… yeah, annoys me…” Marianne feels a sudden sharpness spearhead through her weak little heart. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you… If you aren’t annoying then you’re… like this… I love when you’re excited…” As soon as it stung, the sharpness leaves her chest, with any sudden heartbreak immediately remedied. “...Why would you phrase it like that?” Byleth’s head cranes around, and he can see Marianne smiling. “What do you mean--” “That was a terrible way to tell me that, y-you really scared me…!” He chuckles; It’s a guilty, defensive chuckle, but one amused all the same. “Sorry, I’m uh…” “You’re bad at talking… You don’t express yourself well so you always sound very rude.” “...Sorry.” “...Don’t apologize…” Her posture shifts, turning so the pair can properly face each other. “It’s just you. You shouldn’t feel sorry for it…” The smile left there by a chuckle had been tickled into a sprightly grin. It didn’t fit well on his face at all, and made him seem like some sort of meager predator trying to make itself look threatening. What makes it worse are his sunken eyes, his sallow, cruel, eyes. It’s all romanticized by a blush across his cheeks. This awkward grin, this thing that felt crass simply to look at, was dear to Marianne, and thus, she appreciated it nonetheless. “You’re blushing…?” Her words feter his gaze. “Yes… You were being sappy, of course I’m blushing…” Clammy fingers press to his cheeks and force their eye contact to resume. “It’s not sappy, I was being serious!” Byleth’s own digits return the gesture, cradling his partner’s cheeks. “I know…” Their smile was now properly shared, a private, hidden, exchange that only they’d ever know about.

Perhaps it was to do with the seasons, maybe the illness, perhaps even the shirts they swapped, but something was making the pair rather emotional that night. The pendulum must swing however, every down has it’s up. Byleth, whose sickness was waning plenty since his bedridding, found himself on that very mattress once more. Only now he was lying on his side, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. He wasn’t sure where Marianne was, but she was low maintenance anyhow. 

A familiar pitter patter is heard, Marianne’s meek footsteps trotting toward Byleth’s room. Dull blue eyes drag from the phone to stare expectantly at the door. It was getting a bit hard to see with how the light died outside. The time must have been seven or eight at night by then. The door is shoved some from the other side, then slowly pushed open. Marianne was suggesting the door open with her foot, as her hands were both occupied carrying something. “I found a record player--!” “Put that back.” Immediate rejection cuts into the air. 

“Why?” She teeters to the bed’s side, dropping the box atop the comforter. It was the sort of record player that you get from a bookstore since you have vinyls already but end up never using anyhow. “I don’t like any of the songs we have.” “So why’d you buy a record player?” Byleth sits up and tosses his phone aside, giving the box his full attention now. “I didn’t, my dad bought it.” Realization visibly hits Marianne, sending her to nod in understanding. “So that’s why you don’t like the songs…? Where are they kept? I’m sure we could find something that you like.” The answer Marianne got was no more than an unanticipated smile. 

As soon as they enter Jeralt’s room Byleth flicks the light switch on. It’s cold, colder than the rest of the house and in a much different sort of way. A thin layer of dust had settled over most everything, but what the pair was interested in was the sack of albums on the ground by the right side of the bed. Marianne, who had become a bit sheepish in a deadman’s room, allowed Byleth to lead on first. He simply lifts the sack up to the bed so they may rummage about. “Don’t expect much, my dad had uh… ‘particular’ taste…” 

“This?” Marianne held up a mostly black album, then flipped it around to show what seemed to almost be a glam rock band on the back. “Mötley Crüe?” Byleth responds. “Uh, no thank you.” Undeterred, Marianne places it to the side. “You don’t like them?” “Not so much as I haven’t listened to them, they seem like a dad band after all…” They rummage further.

Marianne hears a breathy chortle, turning her head to see Byleth shaking his head at an album in his hands. Noticing her curious gaze, he presents the cover. Four men posing in mostly red shirts, each wearing gold chains, with a title that reads, ‘Ghetto Boys.’ Marianne herself wears an amused smile, looking over to an album that she herself was ready to present. ”I think I found out what you meant about, uh, ‘particular taste.’” Byleth peers over at what she was holding and gives his own abashed sigh. 

“Why did your dad own a ‘Fear of a Black Planet’ vinyl?” It sends Byleth. “I don’t know. I-I don’t know he like-- I think he might have had like identity issues, or, o-or something cause…” He nudges the sack of records. “Look at these fuckin’ vinyls. The man, like, wished he was black.” Marianne’s eyes suddenly widened. “He wasn’t?!” Laughing out his words, Byleth shakes his head in riposte. “My dad was fuckin’ white!” Byleth himself was mixed, his skin a faded brown with warm orange undertones. “I… I guess I always just assumed he was!” He simply shakes his head, now humored as he continues to rummage. “No… My mom was brown but my dad… yeah, white.”

They scour a moment longer, Marianne shows a Chuck Mangione album with the man himself hugging a trumpet on the cover, but beyond that they find little. They quietly sift a bit more before Byleth stands to his feet, announcing, “Alright. Fear of a Black Planet it is.” Perking at his decision, Marianne gets ready to mobilize as well. “Oh? Are we listening to it ironically?” Now on his way out, Byleth shakes his head with Marianne trailing behind like an eager dog. “No. My dad played this kinda stuff on loop while I was growing up, it’s like ingrained into me. I like it.”

Marianne gets to plug the record player into the wall, while Byleth slides the vinyl out and onto the turntable. The needle drops, a switch is flipped, and the room gets filled with a crunchy, unfiltered, audio. Marianne places the device on a night stand, before slipping onto the bed with Byleth. They face each other, both just sitting atop the bedspread, yet with how late it’s gotten it’s hard to decipher much in the dark. It’s soon remedied by a bedside lamp being flicked on, giving Byleth a fine view of his partner’s visage. While the music wasn’t traditionally ‘romantic’ at all, it was nice to listen to with someone you appreciated. 

Marianne scoots closer to palm Byleth’s chest, rubbing her flannel against him. “I can’t believe you’re still wearing this…” Curious as to her message, Byleth simply pulls the top’s collar to his nose, taking a steady inhale. “It smells nice, and feels nice… I don’t know what to tell you.” Limp arms wreathe and twine around the man’s neck, pulling Marianne’s face to nestle into his neck’s bend. “You don’t have to say anything…”

It takes little time at all for the two to find themselves lying together, both silent aside from synchronized breathing. Still in her mom jeans, Marianne scoots and wriggles the pants off her legs. Byleth notices and slowly drones out. “...I’m still too sick for, like, sex.” She merely huffs at his words. “I’m just taking my jeans off, I’m not gonna sleep in them…” Byleth is reminded of all the times that he slept in jeans, and has to make the conscious decision to silence himself. He himself wore sweatpants that night, so he had a proper excuse to lie in bed with pants on.

Bodies exchange warmth and breath as limbs wrap and push everywhere and anywhere they wish. Marianne keeps a palm spread against the man’s chest, absently rubbing his firm figure while she allows herself to settle in. Byleth’s own hand affirms itself to the bottom of Marianne’s thigh, clutching and tugging to keep her form squeezed to his. They remain tangled in silence for a time, before Marianne simply mumbles, “It’s cold…” Byleth responds. “Thanks I didn’t want to say anything.” While he reaches down to pull a blanket over them, Marianne smiles at his words. “Why not?” He allows himself to think for a few odd seconds. “Don’t know. Maybe I uh…” Again, he thinks. “I don’t know, I guess it was weird for me to say nothing.” Marianne agrees. “Yeah, it was…”

As time dwelled on, little exchanges like these thinned in numbers, the pair waning closer and closer to sleep. Eventually, Marianne turns away from Byleth if only to turn the record player down, allowing it to now serve as faint white noise. His eyes peel open in a hooded stare as arms drag Marianne back to his chest. “...There’s some line in one of the songs…” He spoke of the album. “...Where they chide white liberals…” Marianne wasn’t sure why he brought such a thing up, but his face looked so absently pleased that she allowed it. “Mhm…?” Lying beneath covers, wrapping limbs with her lover, and feeling the gentle vibrations of his chest against hers, it all made Marianne’s body feel warm and very much against the idea of moving. “Yeah… It’s funny…” Whatever he was on about pleased him, which could only please Marianne as well. His smile was a fleeting thing, she latched to such sights. 

His eyes were shut, though hers still fought to stay open. She couldn’t let go of his image, staring into his quiet features, thinking about what it meant for them to be together. She could think later though, for now, he would only be awake for a little while longer. “By…” Not opening his eyes, the man only hums back a “Hm…” Her lips find his, sticking the two together in a moment of togetherness. It could have been their hundredth kiss, but it felt like the first. Parts of Marianne still couldn’t believe who she was with, that someone could find so much worth in a person like her. Still addled by sleep, he only manages another smile. “You’re going to get yourself sick…” She doesn’t answer, instead opting to sink her cheek to his chest. Sleep was whisking him off, and it’d steal her too. They were both smiling now; Sleeping, silent, and maybe they were sick, but they were smiling.

Outside, all of night was respectful to the couple. Snow only fell in torpored drifts, dusting across the now slumbering block. Come morning, sun would shine, ice would melt, and time would sally onward. All would continue as anticipated, life stops for no one. Even this day, this moment, would be forgotten. But in that still of night, the moon hung in the sky maybe an hour longer, if just for them.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry but I can ONLY write settings in winter!!! Snow is just really pretty >:(((   
> This should not have taken like a week to write.


End file.
